World Enough
by ifyoudieidie02
Summary: Time and the fates collide in crafting the lives of several Hogwarts students leaving them to question whether enough time can change the machination of fate or do all roads lead to the same final battle? Possible multi-chap fic, canon-divergent, time travel shenanigans, tom riddle x oc, third person omniscient, Review if you want more.


**Hey guys, not really sure what this is yet. It might be a standalone but could become a multi-chap based on reviews and general interest, no promises though. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter this is simply a story loosely based on the world created by J.K. Rowling, all rights reserved to her and Time Warner.**

**World Enough**

She ran her fingers lightly ghosting along the jutting lines and swooping planes of his face, merely playing the part of the wonderstruck observer.

He was beautiful.

He was beautiful and she was lost in it though she knew she shouldn't be. She'd promised Harry time and again that she would be on guard around him. But she'd never been a good knight, though she did fancy it as a career path from ages six through fourteen.

She let her hand drop back to her side, clenching the thin digits into a fist she marshalled her should-be anger at this man turned monster- no…this boy turned leviathan. Mammoth in his greatness- his ability to enliven the hatred of others and bring it into the fore. But that wasn't quite right because all he brought to her was lo-

She takes a step back, turning swiftly away from his perfectly curled black hair, porcelain skin, stormy blue eyes alight with inquisitiveness, the slight smirk gracefully placed just-

No.

She moves one Mary-Jane clad foot forward and then another across the storied stone floor with each step, feeling like a child all over again.

He was almost sixty, but he didn't look a day over thirty-five and he was beautiful.

He would leave for a mission of suppression that he would describe as a freedom though she knew it was only this way for the privileged minority- when he had become a member of this elite group, she was not aware. He would return as immaculate as ever, not a single drop of blood that he had spilt had ever dropped onto him much like how the consequences of his actions never seemed to touch him- or so it seemed to her seven-year-old self. He would return and she would sit in a strop behind his opulent desk- an offence which would earn anyone else a painfully slow death but all she received was an amused smile. She was never quite sure if she was upset because of what he went out into the world to do or if it was the agonizing thought that one day he wouldn't come back. That one day might find him lying somewhere drenched in his own blood with all his consequences piled on top of his chest preventing the air from reaching his lungs. Meanwhile, she would sit behind his desk in a strop waiting for her best friend to come home so she could be angry at him for a minute, storming off in a huff only to turn around a second before her hand clasped the door knob and rush back to him throwing herself into his already open arms.

But she wasn't a child anymore- hadn't been for ages. And he wasn't alive anymore- hadn't been for ages.

She brutally shoved away the childhood memories and daily ennui, yanking open the heavy oaken door and rushing out into the hallway. She pulled the door closed without a single backward glance sinking to the floor with her back pressed against its hollow planks. She brings her hands up to her face, palms grinding into her expressive hazel eyes- deep red hair sheltering her crumbling expression. Sometimes it was all too fucking much.

Light footsteps approach and she doesn't hear them, "Seraphine?" queries a falsely dreamy voice.

Her head shoots up in surprise, "Luna?"

Luna kneels down next to her best friend, placing her hand lightly on Seraphine's knee. Seraphine takes one look at Luna's kind face and murmurs miserably, "Boggart." Luna nods in understanding, the kindness formerly on her face morphing to concern. She sits down next to Seraphine wrapping her arms around her friend, their heads coming together. Luna's concern and Seraphine's misery were more than just symptoms of the dark creature that called dark spaces its home, for they knew what none else yet knew.

The man-boy that was in the room that was never truly in the room was not the same grandiose war lord from Seraphine Black's past but an identical after-image of a contentiously complex boy from a black leather book that resided in a black leather shoulder bag that resided at the side of the very same girl. No, this after-image was once a boy who was not in a book inside a bag and most certainly not in 1997- but then up until very recently Seraphine Black had not been in 1997 either, nor had she been in any books to the best of her knowledge.

The quiet contemplation in the hallway was interrupted by shouting further down the corridor, "He's here!" the mix of voices exclaimed. Who they were referring to needed no clarification as signs of his arrival had been plaguing Seraphine seemingly non-stop in the months since her return- though some of these she still believed to be her rampaging guilt. She often wondered if he was haunted by her as often as she him- the Catherine to his Heathcliff. Though she hated _Wuthering Heights, _the torturously gothic pall of the situation could not be ignored.

The girls stood with hands clasped together, Luna began to move forward but Seraphine's stationary stance held them in place.

"I don't know what he'll remember." She whispers, gaze locked on some point in the distance.

"He always remembers that he loves you." Luna says with a confidence her friend can't seem to muster.

"I don't now how much of him is left to do that, Lu." Seraphine shakes her head, barely containing the riot of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. "I left him…I le-left him and now he's this and I thought- I always used to think that if I had just been there it would have been enough. And I missed you and Harry and Sev and Madeira…but he only ha-had me. He only had me, and I fell back. I fell back and left him alone and I promised him, I _promised _him I'd never leave, and I did." Luna takes Seraphine in her arms and tries to hold her together

"I lied to him and he won't ever forgive that Lu, not even from me."

"Then I suppose we will just have to hope that he's the original Him, though I'm not sure that's much better..." These thoughts just seemed to make her cry harder.

The two girls stood alone clutching one another in the cavernous halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as their fellow students rushed around them fleeing or preparing to fight the oncoming storm that was brewing roughly one hundred and fifty yards outside the castle. Where just past a volatile tree that occasionally housed a studious werewolf, over a hill that had once seen a greasy man begging an imperious one for the safety of a lost love and past a set of heavy black gates that warned of tickling a sleeping dragon; a lone man stood. Or what was once a man at any rate, he looked more like a human-snake crossbreed these days. Though the singular emotion stationed on his face could be mistaken for little else regardless of species classification for pure rage surged from his every pore causing the surrounding air to crackle with un-spent magick. Ten feet further back stood his followers, numbering in the thousands and garbed in various shades of black. A casual onlooker might think the group attendees, to what would be a very large funeral- rather unfortunately this casual onlooker would not be far off. For bad things were to happen here.

The fates danced along the edges of the ancient castle and a battle that had been fermenting for sixty years, if not longer, was finally coming to a head. With the players all in place

With a flash we see an elderly man with a long white beard tucked into his belt gazing out a castle window and into the darkened grounds

Another flash takes us to the Great Hall where hundreds of students mill orderly around a young man with wild black hair and a lightning bolt scar in deep conversation with a greasy haired, hooked nosed potions master

A flash and we are at the edge of the Forbidden Forest where two Indian girls and a bushy-haired African American girl make their way hurriedly from the tree's dark depths and back toward the castle, trailed by a grouping of obscured masses

A final flash takes us to a hallway along the third-floor corridor of the castle where a red-haired girl and a blond have marshalled their strength and begun moving towards a set of stairs flanked ominously by the castle's ghosts

The black gates that have always warned of a sleeping dragon crack open and the battle begins.


End file.
